The next day, things seemed to quiet down on the deepfake assassination. True to her word, Betty posted a retraction. Mrs. Wrath didn't kill this guy…but she probably killed others, so it could've been true. Because I was forced to issue this stupid statement, deepfake videos are 10% off this week only, with an extra 5% if your name is Betty—the awesomest name in the world.
Not to be outdone, the government of Myanmar also sent out a statement: The Deputy Auditor General is very much alive, and no, you can't see him because he's very busy at the moment and will likely be busy for the foreseeable future. We insist that you stop leaving flowers at the deputy's residence, or you will be shot. Have a nice day.
"Glad to see you're out of the woods on that international assassination," Rex, my husband and the town's detective, said. The town's only detective was home for lunch.
"I don't know how these deepfakes can be so real." I pushed away from the table. "My head was on that body seamlessly. Much better than the faked Lee Harvey Oswald photo."
Rex looked at me. "I thought the research team at Dartmouth determined it was authentic." He went back to clearing the dishes. "If you say it was faked, then I owe one of the Hamlets five bucks."
Uh-oh. I'd signed a confidentiality clause when I started at the CIA after the orientation where certain secrets were revealed.
"I didn't say that," I lied. "Of course it is totally real." I winked. "Wait, you said you owe a hamster money?"
There were four Officer Hamlets unofficially on the police force, and they were all hamsters, owned by the resident paste-eater, Officer Kevin Dooley. Rex humored the village idiot by letting him bring the Hamlets to work, where they had actual uniforms and were training to be drug seizure hamsters. They weren't too bad at marking things with crime scene tape—as long as you watched where you were walking.
"One of them is a conspiracy junkie." Rex stuffed his wallet into his back pocket. "I've got to get back to the office. Should I bring home pizza tonight?"
That got my attention. "Yes please!"
My cell rang as I kissed my husband goodbye. It was Kelly Albers, my best friend since elementary school and my co-leader for the troop. It was Kelly who usually kept things on an even keel, which was good since sometimes—and I rarely admitted this—I could be a bit of a bad influence.
"Tell me I didn't forget a troop meeting today…again," I groaned.
"It's worse than that," she replied. "I need your help chaperoning the school dance tonight."
Like so many things with the CIA, it sounded innocent enough but was sure to be a thousand times worse. "What are you talking about? You were signed up to help without me?" It seemed like a bit of a betrayal.
"A friend of mine at church teaches at the middle school and asked if I could help out since I'm the most responsible person she knows."
That stung. My dream was for Kelly to call me responsible…just once!
Kelly continued. "But she's sick and the dance is tonight…"
"And your first thought was to ask me!" I tried to spin it.
"Actually, no. My first thought was my husband. My second thought was my pastor. My third thought was you when they turned me down."
"Third huh? I guess that's not too bad," I lied, because it wasn't great. "What do I have to do?"
Kelly sighed as if she wasn't 100% thrilled that I'd taken her up on her offer. "Be at the gym by seven. Wear a dress. Be ready for anything." She hung up.
Hilly blew through the door. "Hey! Are you going to the dance tonight?"
I shoved my cell into my pocket. "Of course. Kelly invited me." An idea popped into my head. "Why don't you come along and help?"
Hilly punched her fist in the air and started squealing. "Yay! I've got the perfect dress! I'll pick you up at 6:45!"
"Wait!" I grabbed her arm before she could leave. "How did you know about the dance?"
"Betty told me. See ya later!"
We got there a little earlier than that. Hilly and I both wore plain but elegant little black dresses. You might think we were fashionable, but the CIA required us to pack one wherever we went because it could be dressed up for a gala at an embassy, dressed down for a meetup in a Russian dive bar, or worn for any unexpected funerals. We also had cute but comfortable dress shoes just in case a shootout broke out at the aforementioned funeral. That actually happened at half the funerals I attended when I was a spy, especially after the first spring thaw in Chechnya, when the ground was soft enough to dig and people brought out bodies they'd stored in their ice houses all winter.
"This looks nice!" Hilly said. "I didn't go to any school dances."
I didn't respond because my memories were taking me back to my middle school days. Kelly and I went to every dance and always had a great time. I even remembered Kevin Dooley in the corner, eating the crepe streamers when the food ran out.
"Is this a date thing?" I gasped as I saw kids coming in in pairs. "It never used to be!"
A girl and boy stopped in front of us as he fixed her corsage. Corsages? At a middle-of-the-week middle school dance?
And where was Kelly? I was here before her! That made me more responsible, right?
"I wonder who the girls will bring as dates?" Hilly asked. "I mean, there's Betty and Conrad, but what about the others?"
I turned to follow her finger. Betty was wearing a hot pink dress with poufy sleeves and red Converse tennis shoes. Conrad, the first boy to ever turn the head of someone who seemed to hate boys before, was dressed in a suit and tie.
"Hey," Betty said as they stopped to talk to us. "What's up?"
"Nice to see you again, Mrs. Ferguson," Conrad said. "And Ms. Vinton too."
Hilly turned to me. "Should I pat them down for weapons?"
"Not if you want to stay out of jail for molesting kids," I warned. "You two have a nice time!" As they started to walk away, my spy-dy senses kicked out a warning. I pulled Betty's purse out of her hands, found a bottle of a nondescript substance, and confiscated it.
"You're no fun anymore!" the girl griped.
"I am too fun!" I shouted after her. "I wonder what this is?" I asked no one in particular.
Hilly snatched the bottle, uncapped it, and took a big swallow before replacing the cap and handing it to me. "Oooh, that's the good stuff. It's a synthetic hallucinogenic the agency started using a month ago. And it tastes like bananas!"
I was about to suggest that she go lie down somewhere, when Kelly tapped me on the shoulder.
"You look nice. But why is Hilly here?" Kelly asked.
"Merry invited me." Hilly grinned. "But I know I'm not allowed to pat down the kids for weapons."
"Might not be a bad idea," Kelly mused.
I showed her the bottle and told her Hilly had just taken what we referred to as a Moscow swig.
My best friend looked a bit alarmed. "That seems like a bad idea. What happens if she starts hallucinating that the kids are all spies and tries to take them down?"
I considered this scenario. Kelly was right. Why hadn't I thought about that? "We could ask the zoo to lend us some blow darts. It would have to be rhino strength because Hilly is pretty fit."
I turned my attention to the door. Kelly called us chaperones, but this was basically a security gig and we were in charge of keeping kids on a hormonal roid rage safe. The fact that she didn't see that meant that I was more responsible than Kelly.
Inez walked in with a boy I'd never seen before. She waved but did not come over. That seemed normal. With her and Betty both on a normal sort of date, maybe I had nothing to worry about with the troop.
The four Kaitlyns walked in. I had four Kaitlyn Ms in my troop. They all looked alike, talked in synchronization and, as far as I could tell, operated on a shared frequency hive mind. A boy walked up between them, with two Kaitlyns on each side, one in front of the other. All four girls slid their arms in his, and they walked like that over to us.
"Hi, Mrs. Wrath, Mrs. Albers, and Hilly!" the four girls said at the same time.
"This is our date, Keith," two of them said, while the other two nodded.
"Nice to meet you, Keith," Kelly said politely.
"Have fun!" was all I could think to say.
As they walked away, I turned to the woman who'd accompanied me to these dances when we were students here. "When did they start bringing dates? Aren't they a little young for that?"
A scowl crossed Kelly's features. "I don't like it either. But the times have changed. We're old now."
"What? We're not old!" I argued. "And we're soooo fun!" I called out to Betty, who'd walked by with Conrad again like she was parading a tribute through the streets of Rome.
"Things are different now." My co-leader shrugged.
"Yeah, well, I don't like it." I folded my arms over my chest.
"Look!" Hilly pointed at the door. "There's the mayor!"
Sure enough, Ava had walked in wearing her medieval mayoral chain of office. She was accompanied by a confused-looking, middle-aged man wearing a suit.
"I guess she's bringing her work with her," Kelly said. "He looks like he might be our new director of sanitation. I heard the new guy was starting this week."
That was so like Ava. The thirteen-year-old mayor ran this town with an iron fist not unlike former Louisiana governor Huey Long. She spotted us and walked over. The man decided to follow.
"Mrs. Wrath, Mrs. Albers, Ms. Hilly," Ava intoned. "This is Mr. Vernon Croyer."
We shook hands.
"Nice to meet you," Kelly said. "You must be new to city hall."
That's when I noticed that the man had started perspiring. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his forehead. "What? I don't work for city hall!"
Ava nodded. "He's the CEO of Tall Corn State Insurance. And he's my date."
Vern looked like he was about to faint or vomit. Hopefully he wouldn't do either.
"Your date?" Kelly asked in a shocked tone. "Ava! You can't bring a grown man as your date to a middle school dance!"
"Why not?" Ava asked.
"Excuse me," Vernon said in a shaky voice. "I just thought I was coming here to bid on your city's insurance policy. I can't be a little girl's date!"
"I'm afraid you've been misled," Kelly soothed. "Hilly, would you take Mr. Croyer to get some punch?" She turned back to the sweating man. "Don't worry. We'll say you're a chaperone."
Vernon seemed a bit relieved, but Ava stamped her foot. "Why can't he be my date?"
Ava was always ambitious. Her endgame has always been to become the CEO of an international insurance company, so I got why she'd asked Croyer to town.
"Because you're thirteen," I explained. "And he's…"
"Fifty-two," Vernon said helpfully. "I'm going to go get punch with Ms…" He looked expectantly at Hilly.
"Hilary Vinton." She held up a hand. "I know, I know, I look just like Hilary Clinton. I get that a lot." The tall, muscular assassin swung her long, brown braid to the back.
Hilly was delusional about this alleged connection to the former Secretary of State. As far as I knew, no one had ever told her this.
"It's okay," Ava said. "You should go with her. She's a CIA assassin, who isn't an assassin but totally is."
Hilly grabbed the man by the tie and dragged him away. He looked like he was trying to wake up from a nightmare.
"Look." Ava shook a finger at us. "If I'm going to take his job from him in ten years, I need to be seen hobnobbing…whatever that is. So I'll pretend he's not my date, but he totally is!" Her chin went up in the air, and she stormed away.
"At least that's the only weird thing our troop has done," I sighed. "I mean, the four Kaitlyns with one date might seem weird, but since they share one brain, it's kind of like one-on-one."
Kelly craned her neck to follow the tween mayor as she caught up to the man she thought was her date. "You're right. I'm glad I only have to keep an eye on that one tonight."
I laughed. "I was expecting it to be way worse! It's not like anyone's walked in with…" My words drifted away.
Kelly followed my gaze.
"…a penguin," I finished weakly.
Lauren, our junior zookeeper, walked over to us, hand in flipper with a very tall penguin.
"Sorry I'm late," the girl said. "Sir Picklesworth needed help with his bowtie, and none of the other penguins knew how to do that."
Sir Picklesworth gave a short but obvious nod in response.
Kelly glared at me as if this was my fault.
I threw my hands up. "Hey, at least he's not fifty-something and he has his own tux."
Lauren looked around. "We'd better keep him from the punch. Penguins become violent when they so much as smell fruit punch. Who knows what he's capable of?"
"Well, you as junior zookeeper, for starters, should know what he's capable of," I mumbled as she walked away. "At least the punch isn't fruit punch."
"It is fruit punch," Kelly said tightly.
By the refreshments table, Hilly was running in circles, trying to catch imaginary butterflies in the air, and Sir Picklesworth went over to Vern and slapped his legs repeatedly with both flippers.
And then the chaos started…
Rex actually kept a straight face as he asked me, "So, what happened here?"
I looked around the trashed gym. "Well, Ava brought a grown, middle-aged man as her date, and Sir Picklesworth, Lauren's penguin date, didn't seem to like him very much—but that might be because he really hates fruit punch. And Hilly drank some synthetic LSD on purpose and, after chasing imaginary butterflies, started running around the gym, upsetting tables and screaming, Middle grade is a lie! Save yourselves!"
Kelly was over in the corner with some teachers, trying to do damage control. Personally, I thought the principal had gone too far calling the police, the sheriff's department, and Iowa State Police.
"I took her down with a flying tackle," I explained to my husband, "before she attacked the DJ. The kids seemed to like it. Oh, except for Sir Picklesworth." I pointed at the stage, where a very angry penguin was pacing back and forth while making a loud honking sound.
"At least there are no dead bodies." Rex smirked as Sheriff Carnack came in with two deputies.
I looked around. "Not yet, at least. Are you thinking of charging or arresting anyone? Because other than all that stuff, this is just a normal school dance."
"No." Rex's smirk relaxed into a smile. "Ed and I will talk about it. Once the zookeepers get here, we'll just shut down the dance and send everyone home."
"Why shut down the dance?" That didn't seem fair! This was a normal night in Minsk and remote areas of Paraguay. "You said the zookeepers are on their way, and Sir Picklesworth started it."
"What—" Rex pointed with his index finger "—about that?"
Hilly was swinging from one of the gym ropes, letting out loud Tarzan yells.
Damn. I'd hoped the drugs would wear off by now. "You can take her into custody. At least until she comes down from being drugged. But can't the rest stay?"
Ava stomped over to us, her eyes blazing. "As mayor, I order you to let the dance continue!"
Rex regarded her thoughtfully. "Okay."
Surprised that it was that easy, Ava said, "Okay, then!"
I stared at my husband. "She can get you to do something I can't?"
"We have a budget review coming up," Rex said. "I really need a new squad car and a lot of zip ties. Kevin used them all to make a low ropes course for the Hamlets."
I watched as Rex and Ed walked over and talked to the principal, while a very anxious zookeeper tried luring Sir Pickles away with a pail of fish. Hilly climbed down from the rope, went up onto the stage, curled up, and went to sleep next to the DJ.
That seemed like a better plan than hauling her off. I wouldn't want Rex or the others to get injured. After pointing it out to Rex and the sheriff, they agreed.
The rest of the dance was uneventful when compared to the beginning. Vernon Croyer stood with us, refusing to dance with Ava, who stormed off to dance with Lauren—who was now penguinless. Betty and Conrad spent most of their time sitting on the sidelines talking. Either neither one wanted to dance or they were plotting the overthrow of some tiny South Pacific nation. Hilly eventually came to and decided to go home.
It took more time to clean up from the dance than the actual dance itself. Just before I left, I got a cryptic message from Ron that read:
Come to woods in park north of town at 1pm for ritual.
This was immediately followed by a text from Ivan:
Tomorrow. Not today. It is too late for 1pm today, unless you are on other planet.
Which evolved into another text from Ron:
But don't be on other planet. Be here. Tomorrow.
Not here, but in woods, Ivan corrected.
I wasn't entirely sure what this was about, but there was no way I was missing it.